


Orenda

by LovelyVillain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Horror, Mystery, Religious Content, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyVillain/pseuds/LovelyVillain
Summary: Another body has been found torn apart. Something evil lives within the mysterious village of Hogsmeade, and the stranger sent to investigate may be the most dangerous thing of all.





	1. Orenda

**Orenda (n.)** a mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world or to effect changes in their own fate or destiny  
. . .  
. .  
.

Hermione held her breath, stifling a scream.

The bark of the tree she hid behind dug painfully into her back, scraping her flesh through the tears in her shirt.

She didn’t know how long she’d been running. How long it had been chasing her.

She didn’t even know what _it_ was.

But she knew she didn’t want it to catch her.

So she kept moving. And hiding when couldn’t bear to move another inch.

But it was relentless in its pursuit. Never slowing, never losing her trail.

She was equal parts terrified and hopeless. She had no idea where she was, deep as she was within the woods. Everything looked the same, every bush, every tree, every rock and fallen branch…

It went on forever in every direction. An endless maze she would never emerge from. She was all alone with the beast at her back. Even the birds and insects had abandoned her, fleeing high and low to escape the same fate that surely awaited her any moment now.

She swallowed heavily, regaining her breath and closing her eyes, straining to listen for any sign, any indicator of its presence.

But she could hear nothing beyond the deafening thud of her own heartbeat. Each desperate throb another second in the countdown.

She couldn’t sit in wait any longer. Stagnation was death.

She ran.

And then she heard it.

Pounding footfalls, racing along the dead leaves and soil.

Heaving breath, wild and malevolent.

Gaining speed, louder and louder, closer and closer-

She lost her footing, falling in slow motion to the forest floor, releasing a blood curdling scream on instinct. The impact knocked the wind from her, her shoulder and hip taking the brunt of her weight. But her adrenaline overrode any pain as she scrambled frantically on her hands and knees to find purchase, to pick herself up.

And from her half upright position she saw it.

Not a beast.

A cottage.

Moss covered and hidden within its surroundings. The front door was a bright beacon of hope that called to her.

She launched to her feet and sprinted.

But the cottage became a mirage, shimmering before her eyes, never getting any closer no matter how hard she ran, now matter how her lungs burned.

And yet the beast was very real, tearing through the shrubs and foliage and ripping along the path, charging her at full speed-

And then it leapt onto her back, a crushing weight that ripped her off her feet and pushed her hard into the packed earth.

She was too terrified to release anything more than a shocked grunt of pain. She braced herself for the blood, the carnage, gnashing teeth and razor claws.

But it was human hands that grasped her hips and flipped her over, that pinned her body in place. The sun broke through the canopy above, turning the stranger above her into nothing but a shadowed silhouette.

But the creature was a man, of that she was certain, and the revelation terrified her even more.

“Hello, little one.”

His voice was death, unyielding and absolute, stopping her heart and stealing the breath from her lungs.

His hands skimmed along her sides, pushing her arms over her head and encasing her wrists as he bore down upon her. She gasped, closing her eyes and turning her head away, feeling searing hot breath along her skin and sharp teeth along her throat, tracing along her throbbing pulse, devouring her in a way that was more brutal than if he rendered flesh from bone.

“Soon.” He whispered in her ear, a lover’s promise, all the more perverse for how intimate his tone.

And just as she felt the weight of his hips press into hers, a blinding light flashed above them, ripping a growl from his throat and relieving her of his weight. The explosion blinded her, left her suspended in a vacuum of white-

And then something small pounced on her chest, tiny claws prickling her flesh.

She opened her eyes.

“Crooks…” she groaned, rolling to her side and tipping the feline to the mattress.

The orange mass of fur mewled, butting his head against her chin and purring loudly. She sighed, rubbing sleep from her eyes before scratching along his scruff and back.

“I’d normally complain about you waking me with your claws, but in this case you pulled me from a rather unpleasant dream.”

She yawned into the back of her hand and then stretched her arms over her head and pointed her toes, relishing the pull on her muscles, and then blinked, recalling her prone position in the dream, and quickly sat up.

This was the third time she’d had the nightmare in a week. It disturbed her deeply. She had no idea where such images came from. She’d never been attacked before, in the woods or elsewhere, and if the dream held some hidden meaning she had yet to discern it.

Even more unsettling, it was evolving. The stranger had never spoken to her before.

Her arms broke out in gooseflesh as she recalled his words, his low spoken endearment, as though he knew her…

“Hermione Granger, I do hope you’re awake!”

She blinked, glancing out of her window and examining the position of the sun.

“Shite!” she hissed, leaping out of bed so fast she dragged half her sheets with her.

“I’m up!” she called down the stairs, spinning in a circle looking for her shift.

Ten minutes later she was flying down the steps, running her fingers through her hair and twisting it up into a bun, futility trying to smooth the sides.

The woman seated at the breakfast table raised a brow. Hermione bit her lip.

“I overslept.”

“I can see that. And on your first day of work. How unbecoming.”

Hermione swallowed lightly. “I can make it on time if I take a shortcut-”

“No.” Her voice brokered no argument. Hermione sighed. “You are not to set foot in the woods. Do you understand? Not until they catch whatever beast is running wild.”

Her godmother’s words inspired flashes of the dream to return to her in stunning clarity, making her stomach clench.

“Alright. I promise.”

The woman nodded, spine ramrod straight. “Very good. Enjoy your first day, my dear. And be on the lookout at all times, the creature has yet to breach the village walls, but hunger will make it desperate.”

Hermione released a slow breath. “I’ll be careful. Thank you, Ma'am.”

She slipped out the of the cottage and took off at a sprint down the path that led to town, skirts billowing around her in a flurry of movement.

“Good morning, Hermione!”

“Good morning, Gin!” Hermione called over her shoulder, seeing only a flash of long red hair and a brimming basket as she spun around the corner, too harried to linger in a conversation.

By the time she made it into the town square she was panting, her hair had fallen loose and trailed behind her in a river of brown curls.

“Oi! Who’s chasin’ you, Granger?” a familiar voice laughed.

She spared Seamus a small smile, too fatigued to respond as she darted past his game wagon.

She charged into the Apothecary and promptly doubled over to catch her breath.

“My goodness, Ms. Granger. Are you alright, child?”

Hermione nodded, swallowing thickly as she drew to her full height. “Yes. I apologize for being tardy, Madam Pomfrey, I-”

“No need to apologize, dear. I’ve only just arrived myself. With last night’s town hall running late I barely got any sleep.”

Hermione nodded. The meeting had been called in light of the two deaths that occured over as many days in the last week.

“I’m sorry to have missed it. I heard it ran long. Was there much to discuss?”

Pomfrey sighed, arranging small bottles along the shelf. “There was much to _argue_ about. Kingsley informed everyone he reached out to the Church. They’re sending someone to investigate the matter.”

Hermione swallowed. “Investigate? Weren’t Rodolphus and Fleur attacked by an animal?”

“Apparently there are details we weren’t made to privy to originally. The bodies were badly maimed, but they weren’t eaten.”

Hermione blinked, drawing back. “I thought they were torn apart.”

“They were. And all the pieces were left behind.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “But… that makes no sense. What kind of animal kills for a reason other than food?”

Pomfrey glanced up, gaze steady. “Only one comes to mind.”

Hermione was rendered silent by the revelation.

Kingsley thought Rodolphus and Fleur were murdered.

It wasn’t possible. Perhaps if they had been found stabbed or strangled, but what kind of person tore another person apart limb from limb? How was that even possible? Fleur was a slight thing, but Rodolphus was a large man, well muscled and broad. Certainly he would have put up a mighty struggle.

“As you can imagine, everyone went a bit crazy after the announcement. Malfoy insisted we investigate the matter internally. Surprisingly many agreed with him, even those who aren’t his biggest fans. No one seemed too keen on an outsider coming in.”

Hermione’s hands clenched at her sides, fear blossoming within her. “A member of the Church? Like a priest?”

Pomfrey shrugged. “I don’t know. The Church didn’t tell us much, just that they were sending someone who could help shed light on the matter.”

Hermione’s heart beat wildly in her chest. The Church had controlling interest over all the seaside villages, Hogsmeade included, though their community was situated the farthest away and therefore operated under the least amount of oversight. They hadn’t had a member of the Church pay a visit in many, many years.

“When will they be arriving?”

“I don’t know, dear. All the yelling gave me a terrible headache and I was forced to retire before I heard all the details.” Pomfrey blinked, tilting her head. “Are you alright, Hermione? You look white as a sheet.”

Hermione wet her lips, nodding weakly. “Yes. I’m fine. I just overexerted myself a bit on the way over.”

Pomfrey nodded. “Well take a seat and catch your breath if you must, I don’t want you passing out. I haven’t swept the floors yet.”

Hermione attempted a small smile, making her way across the room to lean against the front counter, trying to regain her bearings in light of this new information.

The Church was sending someone to investigate.

This wasn’t good. What if they found out about-

“Oh my, what’s going on out there?”

Hermione was pulled from her anxious reverie by the sight of several villagers running past the shoppe. She stepped towards the window, squinting into the distance. “It looks like they’re gathering around the nursery.”

Pomfrey brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh dear. I do hope Miss Sprout is okay.”

Hermione drew back. “I’ll be right back.”

“Perhaps you should stay here-”

Hermione was already out the door and hurrying across the dirt road before Pomfrey completed her word of caution. Hermione was used to being warned away from any and everything that posed a potential risk. It was exhausting. If only they knew how capable she really was.

She slowed her approach as she neared the edge of the crowd, voices low and hushed beneath the shouting of Kingsley.

“Everyone get back to your homes immediately!”

“What? Not until you tell us what’s happened!” Amelia shouted, arm wrapped around her daughter.

“For everyone’s safety I need you to-”

“Is she dead?” A man shouted, too far back for Hermione to distinguish his voice. A chorus of shouts ran out as Kingsley lost control of the group.

And then a hand closed around her shoulder, causing her to jolt with a gasp.

“Sorry, Mione,” a familiar voice said, stepping close. “Didn’t mean to startle you, what’s going on here?”

Hermione swallowed, heart still stuttering. “I don’t know, I’ve just arrived myself.”

The newcomer raked a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end. Hermione tilted her head, examining his face.

“You scar looks irritated.”

“Hm?”

She reached up a hand to gingerly touch the skin beside it. He reared back, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just a little sore is all.”

“That’s not normal, Harry. It healed weeks ago, it should be on the mend, not getting worse.”

“It’s not-”

“It could be infected. You need to come by the shoppe and let Pomfrey take a look at it.”

He stepped back, crossing his arms and facing forward. “Leave it, Mione. I’m telling you it’s fine.”

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Your stubbornness if going to get you hurt one of these days, Harry.”

He glanced down at her. “Don’t be silly. My recklessness is what’ll get me hurt.”

She rolled her eyes, and as she faced forward she caught sight of something that gave her pause.

A shock of white blonde hair, standing at the far edge of the spectators.

Draco looked tense, fists clenched at his sides. His face was blank but the dark circles beneath his eyes paired with his pale skin gave him a haunted quality that held her focus.

And then his mercurial gaze flickered, eyes locking with hers.

She started to flush at being caught staring, but the intensity of his gaze scattered her thoughts, left her frozen in place.

His eyes burned and instantly transported her back to the woods...

But not the dream.

No. A very real occurrence that she couldn’t purge from her memory no matter how hard she tried.

Something flashed in his gaze, expression turning lethal as though he could read her mind and knew the direction of her thoughts.

She swallowed, his unyielding focus causing a buzzing in her ears, washing away all other sound. The scenery around him became hazy, and for just a moment, she saw red coating his hands and forearms-

And then he glanced away, back into the gathered crowd, and Hermione’s senses came flooding back to her. She blinked and the chilling image was no more.

“Mione, I think you should head back home.”

Hermione spun around. “What? Why?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not skipping work because you have a bad feeling.”

“Right, and _I’m_ the stubborn one.”

She rose on her tiptoes, trying to see over the sea of spectators.

“If something’s happened you need to head home as well,” she said.

“I’ll be called to council.”

She blinked, glancing at him sharply. A member of each founding family was appointed a leadership role, as was tradition, and as the last remaining Potter that responsibility fell to her best friend.

“So you knew the Church was sending someone?”

He shook his head, jaw ticking. “No. Kingsley went and made that decision without notifying any of us. He’s in a lot of hot water with the senior members.”

She bit her lip. “You’re not in favor of outside help?”

“I’m not in favor of the Church bringing their archaic values to our way of life. I want the killings stopped, not encouraged.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

His emerald gaze hardened. “If this really is the work of a person the residents are going to start getting very paranoid. The Church’s involvement will only worsen that. I don’t want to see people pointing fingers at neighbors and turning on eachother.”

Hearing Harry speak so sagely was a strange thing to behold, his two years on the council had certainly influenced his way of thinking. She was about to ask another question when a scream tore through the air, drawing the focus of everyone.

The frightened noise came from Katie, standing at the end of the nursery gate, eyes wide in horror as she gazed down into a tomato bush.

“Stay here,” Harry said, rushing past her towards the commotion. A few other men surged forward as well, the whispers intensifying tenfold.

Hermione held her breath, slowing stepping closer, following the movements of the crowd.

And then a familiar head of deep red hair appeared. Charlie Weasley stepped forward with a handkerchief in his hand, reaching down and extracting the foreign item from the soil.

Everyone gasped, Katie spun around and gagged, Hermione blinked in numb terror.

He held a severed hand, pale and lifeless and brutally torn.

She closed her eyes, backing away rapidly, needing to distance herself from the crowd, to seek solitude.

Before she left she glanced to where Draco last stood, needing to see his reaction.

But he was nowhere in sight.


	2. Kairos

**Kairos (n.)** the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement  
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.

Following the discovery of Pomona Sprout’s mangled body the majority of the Town closed its doors, families sequestering themselves inside their homes and avoiding the outside world and all the dangers it presented.

However a few stores had elected to stay open, whether because the owners refused to succumb to the hysteria or, like Madam Pomfrey, they felt their services were needed most in a time of crisis. The Apothecary acted as both a store and a clinic.

Pomfrey had insisted Hermione stay home the following day, but Hermione was adamant about helping. She didn’t want to hide away inside the cottage with nothing to distract her from her fear.

But in the end the store offered little in the way of distraction. They’d received only three customers the entire day. The rest of the time Hermione spent cleaning and organizing shelves obsessively while sneaking glances out the window, gazing upon the ghost town that lived beyond.

“I think we can call it a day, Ms. Granger,” Pomfrey said with a yawn, putting away a stack of papers.

“Alright then.” Hermione reluctantly headed to the counter to grab the keys, intent on locking up, when suddenly the door opened and someone walked in.

Hermione spun around, smile at the ready, eager to greet the last minute customer, when she saw who it was an sighed instead.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

“Good evening, Mr. Weasley, are you here to purchase anything or have you injured yourself trying to climb the stairs with your hands again?” Pomfrey asked without glancing up from her work.

Ron flushed deeply. “I was seven years old.”

“I remember all my patients.”

“I’m helping spread an announcement from Kingsley.”

Hermione stood at alert. Pomfrey looked up as well. “Oh?”

“He wants everyone gathered in the town square in an hour.” He directed his blue gaze on Hermione. “The Church representative is arriving soon.”

Hermione swallowed, swaying on her feet.

This was it.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you’d like to escort us there?”

“Erm,” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d love to, but I’m supposed to knock on the other doors and tell the rest of the street.”

“Very well, continue on your mission, young man. And remember, stairs are for your feet, not your hands.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He glanced at Hermione as he turned to leave. “Mione, you okay?”

She blinked. “Oh, yes, Ron. I’m fine. I’ll see you there.”

His brows drew together as he continued to study her, but he ultimately relented, nodding and exiting the shop, jogging down the dirt path to the next building.

“Why don’t you head over now, dear, while there’s still light? I will lock up here.”

Hermione shook her head. “That’s alright, I’ll-”

“I insist.” Pomfrey pinned her with a stern look. “You’ve been working your fingers to the bone all day. And I don’t want you outside by yourself once the sun goes down. It’s okay, I assure you I’m more than capable of locking a door by myself.”

Hermione smiled, blushing lightly. “Of course, Ma’am. Thank you. I suppose I’ll see you in an hour then.”

Pomfrey nodded, going back to her work.

Hermione gathered her bag and slid the strap over her shoulder, descending the stairs outside as she admired the orange and violet sky. She had another half hour before the moon bled the vivid hues away completely.

She walked along the dirt path, gazing at the shuttered windows and barren market place, when she heard someone call her name from behind. Hermione smiled upon recognizing the voice, stopping in her tracks to allow them to catch up to her.

“Hello, Luna. Are you on your way to the square as well?”

The blonde nodded, feathers and beads dancing with the movement of her hair. “Yes, Ron visited the shop a few moments ago.”

“Your father kept his store open as well?”

“Daddy said it’s silly to isolate ourselves. The culprit only attacks those who are secluded.”

Hermione blinked, face paling. “Culprit? Your father thinks it’s a person then?”

Luna shrugged lightly, expression free of the dismay Hermione openly wore.

“Miss Sprout was found inside her home. Except for her hand. I don’t know any animal that knows how to open and close doors. Except for orangutans. But I think we’d have noticed one walking around by now.”

Hermione swallowed thickly. “Aren’t you scared?”

The blonde glanced at her with guileless blue eyes. “Yes, I am. But fear shouldn’t dictate our lives. I’m also scared of fire but I need it to cook.”

Hermione sighed, facing forward as they walked. Many villagers found Luna too outlandish for their taste, but Hermione found the girl’s serene demeanour and practical outlook wildly refreshing. Especially in the current circumstances.

“I suppose you’re right. But if this really is a person, what could be their possible motivation?” She bit her lip, mind reeling. “And where are they hiding? They’ve organized three separate search parties to scour the woods. Unless they’ve taken to the caves, but that’s a two day’s journey at minim-”

“Perhaps the man will be able to find answers.”

Hermione blinked, thoughts scattering. She glanced over sharply. “The man?”

“The man on his way here now.”

“Oh. You mean the Church representative?”

Luna tipped her head, studying the leaves as they passed along the foliage. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything affiliated with the Church in my vision.”

Hermione fell silent, unsure how to continue. Luna’s so-called visions were another reason many in the town avoided her.

“Luna,” she began tentatively. “You can’t mention your visions to the representative. Especially if it’s a Priest. They may view it as ev-” she stopped short, not wanting to offend the girl. “They may view it as unorthodox. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Luna pulled a berry from a bush and rolled it between her fingers. “Daddy already said the same thing.” She turned her head, meeting Hermione’s earnest gaze. “I will try and act normal while the visitor is here.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “I never said to do _that_. Normal is terribly boring. You shouldn’t change who you are. Just avoid drawing unnecessary attention to yourself while they’re here.”

Luna smiled. “Thank you, Hermione. I’ll be careful.”

Hermione nodded, directing her attention to the square ahead, seeing people milling about in the distance. Someone had lit a large bonfire in the center, black smoke rising high into the air, blending with the ever darkening sky.

As they neared the edge of the crowd a woman’s shrill shouting could be heard above the rhythmic murmur of conversation. Hermione cringed, the voice unmistakable, even if she couldn’t see her face.

“This is madness! Where is he? Where is Kingsley?”

Luna tipped her head, mimicking the movements of an owl she watched in the distance, while Hermione spun in a circle, looking for the source of the chaos.

Then the movement of the gathered crowd drew her focus. Villagers parted like the red sea, making way for the enraged figure of Bellatrix Lestrange to march past, fists clenched and black dress billowing.

“Where is the bastard?”

“Bella-”

“Shut up, Rabastan! This doesn’t concern you!” She shrugged off the hand he placed on her arm, whether to comfort or restrain Hermione wasn’t sure.

“What seems to be the problem?” A deep baritone asked, a tall man emerging from the other side of the bonfire. Kingsley held himself with such authoritative grace it made most look to him in awe.

Bellatrix Lestrange was not so easily swayed. She scowled, spitting at his feet. Women in the crowd gasped.

“You dare go behind our backs and call the Church, and then have the _audacity_ to summon us here? Where do you get off-”

“Perhaps this is a discussion best had behind closed doors, Madam Lestrange.”

“My husband has been dead for five bloody days and I still haven’t been allowed to bury him! I have every right to be outraged!”

“It is imperative the body be available for examination-”

“The _body_? He had a name!” She lunged forward, people gasped, Rabastan surged forward and caught her around the waist, pulling her off her feet and carrying her backwards.

“Put me down!” She screamed, thrashing in his grasp. “You all are a bunch of sheep! No one has the nerve to tell this arsehole what they’re thinking!”

“Do mind your tongue, sister, there are children present.”

Bella fell silent, glaring daggers at the beautiful blonde standing at the front of the spectators, dressed as always in immaculate finery.

Narcissa directed her pale gaze to Kingsley. “Please forgive her transgressions. She is deep in mourning and not in her right mind.”

Bella ground her teeth together but remained silent, much to Hermione’s surprise. But her dark eyes reflected the wild flames of the bonfire, promising pain and retribution for all in her path. Kingsley gazed upon Narcissa, nodding once.

“Consider them forgiven.” Then he directed his focus on Rabastan, still with his arms wrapped around his sister-in-law’s irate form.

“Take her home. I won’t risk her unleashing her fury on our visitor.”

Rabastan’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked just as lethal as the woman in his grasp, but Hermione blinked and his face appeared calm once more.

“Of course.” He proceeded to drag Bella through the parted crowd towards the road, the darkness cloaking both their forms within moments.

As she watched them disappear from view she caught sight of Draco standing near the back of the crowd. She blinked. He normally stood with his parents. She wondered where Lucius was.

Draco scowled at the retreating figures with such disdain in his eyes it made her skin crawl. She was unsettled to see him acting so withdrawn, so unlike his normally outspoken self.

But she was pulled from her musings by the sudden explosion of the crowd, everyone speaking and pointing at the same time.

A carriage could be seen at the end of the road leading to and from Hogsmeade.

Hermione inhaled sharply, taking a step back as the others surged forward.

She jumped when a hand touched her own.

“It’s going to be alright, Hermione,” Luna’s blue eyes gazed at her knowingly. “Just avoid drawing unnecessary attention to yourself while he’s here.”

Hermione blinked. Hearing her own words parroted back to her seemed a dark omen. She swallowed lightly, squeezing the girl’s fingers. “We’re going to be okay.”

The corner of Luna’s mouth tipped up in a sad smile before she withdrew her hand and glanced away.

Hermione turned her focus back to the road, the carriage was pulling inside the square now, led by two solid black Friesians, their lush manes and tails gleaming in the firelight, their eyes burning like coals.

Paired with the solid black carriage they made an ominous sight.

Hermione clenched her hands at her sides as the driver pulled them to a stop, face concealed by black robes.

She didn’t see the markings along the sleeves denoting a monk, and a priest certainly wouldn’t be steering the carriage.

He must have been a friar.

He stepped down from his seat, boots kicking up dirt on impact with the ground, and walked to the carriage door without so much as a glance in the crowd’s direction.

The sea of spectators had fallen absolutely silent upon seeing the massive horses, even the nocturnal creatures in the surrounding wood seemed to fall into a trance. The absolute hush was eerie. All she could hear was the erratic beat of her heart.

And then the friar opened the door-

And a creature born of smoke and shadow emerged from the blackness within.

Hermione blinked, the hazy figure taking distinct shape, hard edges appearing, broad shoulders and long limbs.

She released a slow breath.

The stranger was tall, dressed in pitch, and as he unfolded gracefully from the carriage the fabric reflected the glow of the fire.

Leather.

His long duster covered most of his outfit, long dark hair pulled back with a tie, wide brimmed hat concealing his face, though she saw the faint edge of a sharp jawline.

The crowd started to whisper.

This certainly hadn’t been what anyone was expecting.

And then a gloved hand rose to remove the hat…

And he tipped his head up, gazing upon the crowd.

The remaining air left her on a long woosh. She swayed on her feet, a heady sense of deja vu taking hold, making her dizzy…

She closed her eyes, heart in her throat, and by the time she opened her lids the strange sensation had passed.

The stranger was only that.

A stranger.

His boots began to pace along the dirt as he swept his storm cloud gaze along the sea of spectators.

His face was all sharp angles, too harsh to look upon for its utter perfection. It seemed perverse, subversive for a holy man to possess such a face and wear such clothes. Her skin tingled as though the air was charged. She rubbed futilely at her arms, trying to dispel the gooseflesh.

The stranger stopped pacing, coming to a stop before the Friesians, placing a hand upon the head of the nearest one. The beast dipped its nose in acknowledgement.

Then his lips slowly curled upwards, revealing a row of gleaming teeth. His eyes reflected the firelight in such a way they seemed to glow in the dark, like a cat.

“Hello.”

The single word greeting snapped the tension like a dry twig. The crowd erupted into a flurry of shouting and movement. Hermione lost sight of the stranger, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view.

“Everyone calm down!” Kingsley shouted, pushing his way through to the front of the crowd.

The chaos calmed down enough for the exchange to be heard from where she stood.

“Greetings, friend. My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I’m the one who contacted the Church.”

A few scoffs could be heard. The stranger didn’t bat an eye.

He tipped his head. “A pleasure. I’m Tom Riddle. The Church sent me to investigate on their behalf.”

Hermione swallowed thickly, wondering if he left out his official title and ranking on purpose. She didn’t know much about the priesthood, but she knew there were levels.

Kingsley pressed on, either not noticing the omission or not caring.

“We are grateful for your presence.”

“Not all of us.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, long blonde hair loose and finely groomed.

Riddle smirked, pinning the man with the ferocity of his gaze.

“I understand your hesitation to allow an outsider into your walls. You are a tight knit community, and are not keen to subjecting yourself to the will of the Church.”

Lucius scowled. “We have been operating free from oversight for decades. We don’t need any help now. We take care of each other here.”

Riddle raised a dark brow. “Yes, I dare say you take care of each other a bit too well.”

Lucius’s eyes widened. “How dare you!”

“I mean no offense. I’m merely stating fact. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve already had two mysterious deaths occur in as many days?”

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Actually, another body was discovered yesterday morning.”

Riddle tipped his head. “Did it follow the same pattern as the others?”

“Not exactly. The first two occurred in the woods a day apart. The third body was found inside her home.”

Shadows danced across the man’s face as the bonfire raged at his back. “I see.” He wet his lips, eyes turning back to the crowd. Everyone seemed as transfixed as Hermione.

“I am going to be candid with you all. The Church sent me here for a very specific reason.”

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, sensing something sinister in her midst.

“There has been a steady rise in the practice of black magic. Witch craft.” His eyes sharpened to daggers, slicing through everything in their path. “Ritualistic killings.”

The blood drained from her face. She was light and heavy at the same time, caught between collapsing and floating away.

“I am here to investigate whether Hogsmeade has been similarly plagued.” He began walking, the crowd easily giving way, allowing him wide berth as he slowly cut a path through the middle.

“I assure you, if your village is tormented by a beast, I will find it.”

A few women gasped, whispering behind their hands, clutching their children to them tighter.

“If you're plagued by a bloodthirsty killer, I will find him.”

The men straightened, glancing wearily at one another, the tension palpable.

And then he came to a stop. Mere feet away from where Hermione stood.

He was too close, his stifling presence too much to endure. She desperately wanted to flee but feared drawing attention to herself.

It didn’t seem to matter, because in the next heartbeat his head pivoted and his gaze found hers, rendering her frozen, helplessly at the mercy of his next words.

“And if you're plagued by a witch…” His eyes glowed from within, searing her through to her core. “I _will_ find her.”


	3. Scintilla

**Scintilla (n.)** a tiny, brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely visible trace  
. . .  
. .  
.

Hermione held her flint steady over the broken cedar bark, carefully scraping the firesteel along the edge. Sparks showered over the exposed fibers and ignited instantly. She leaned forward and blew gently on the embers, carefully adding a bundle of char cloth to feed the flames to a healthy orange glow.

Once the kindling was burning steadily she reached for the herbs.

She started with angelica, for health.

The flames devoured the leafy greens, the smoke turning darker.

Next was the blessed thistle, for protection.

The fire snapped and sizzled as it consumed the spiky flower.

Finally, she added the rue, for banishing evil.

The flames hissed loudly, the smoke billowing inky black.

She took a steadying breath, wetting her lips.

“Ita qui patitur portat tueri,” she whispered, mindful of her godmother downstairs. She quickly grabbed the pendant and dropped it into the bowl. The metal clanked against the bottom, lost to the flames.

“Ut in hoc carmine deam benedicat.”

The fire danced wildly in an invisible current, the smoke turned solid white, and then the flames folded in on themselves until they died away completely.

Hermione reached into the bowl, extracting the only item within, the herbs and char cloth leaving behind no trace of ever having been.

The pendant was cool to the touch.

Energy sang through her hand and up her arm, filling her chest with a sense of calm.

She smiled.

And then heard movement from downstairs.

“Hermione! Are you burning something?”

Hermione quickly grabbed the bowl, tucking it beneath a stack of blankets in the corner. Her fingers grazed the other item hidden within the folds of fabric, making her nerve endings come alive from the brief contact.

“No, Ma’am!” She shouted down the steps. “I think someone is burning a fire in the woods!”

She shook her head at the stupidity of the excuse. She hadn’t expected her godmother to be up this early.

Hermione quickly pocketed the pendant in her skirt and trotted down the stairs.

“Good morning,” she said with extra enthusiasm, hoping to distract from an inquisition.

And yet she knew the attempt was futile. Her godmother was far too astute to be so easily sidetracked.

“Perhaps I should report the illicit activity occurring outside to the Council, let them know someone is poised to set a forest fire.”

Hermione sighed. “I panicked. I was burning herbs in my room. I didn’t think you were up yet.”

Her godmother’s eyes narrowed, pinning her place. “Herbs? For what purpose?”

Hermione reached for a piece of brown bread on the counter, fighting to keep her expression neutral. “For the scent. I find it calming.”

The room fell into nerve-wracking silence while Hermione buttered her slice with a knife, fingers stiff and clumsy.

“I see.”

She took a bite for the excuse of keeping her mouth busy.

“I do hope that is _all_ it was, young lady.” The woman folded her hands atop her lap while her spine remained ramrod straight. “Because if it was anything _else_ then my goddaughter has absolutely no sense whatsoever. And I shudder to think what the consequences would be if such antics were brought to light while the _visitor_ resides among us.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, the food turning to ash on her tongue. She swallowed it quickly, averting her face, hair falling forward to mask her eyes.

Her godmother sighed deeply. “Hermione. You _must_ be smarter than this.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I am not looking for an apology. I am looking for you to listen and use your common sense. I do not demand obedience in all things. Not even most things. But I will not relent on this. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“You are too precious to lose, neither to the evil plaguing this village or to the evil of a closed minded institution eager to make an example of anyone who dares defy them.”

Hermione bit her lip, reluctantly glancing up to meet the woman’s shrewd gaze, softened with fondness.

“Promise me you will refrain from your… _hobby_ … at all costs. It is simply too dangerous in light of recent events.”

Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose, hands flexing at her sides.

“I promise, Ma’am.”

They held each other's gaze for several more heartbeats before her godmother relented, nodding once and waving her hand in a gesture of dismissal.

“I hope you do everything in your power to keep that promise, child. Now go, being late once again is simply unacceptable.”

Hermione didn’t hesitate, darting out of the cottage like the devil was at her heels.

She walked briskly along the trail, drawing her shawl tightly around her shoulders. She hadn’t gotten more than a few moments sleep last night, plagued by fear as she was.

The Outsider… Tom Riddle… was a chilling sight to behold. The way he had the crowd hanging on his every word, the fire he stoked within them as he spoke so passionately about black magic and witchcraft…

Hermione was overwhelmed.

She feared detection, being mistook for a dark witch and dragged to the gallows. She knew the safest course of action was to stop practicing her craft altogether, but she couldn't in good conscience leave her loved ones at risk while someone or something was still prowling the village and taking innocent lives.

Not when she had the power to do something about it.

Even if that meant breaking her promise to her godmother.

Besides, performing spells in a controlled environment was the only way to channel her supernatural energy properly. If she allowed it to sit dormant for too long… accidents happened.

And that would only attract more unwanted attention.

Still, this Riddle character was beyond terrifying. He looked nothing like she’d imagined. She’d expected an elderly priest, shroud in robes and crucifixes, wielding his Bible and holy water like a weapon, blessing the town and leaving within a day.

Alas, it seemed this mysterious visitor was planning on staying a while, and seeing this investigation through to its end, no matter the result.

Hermione’s eyes skittered nervously to the edge of the wood, the treeline in the distance. She wondered if it were truly possible a beast was responsible for the attacks.

_It wouldn’t explain Miss Sprout…_

She swallowed, averting her gaze ahead once more.

She sighed in relief as she saw a familiar flash of long red hair.

“Ginny!”

The girl glanced up from her task, tying root stalks upside down from the trellis beside the Weasley garden.

“Good morning, Mione. Not running to work today?”

“I managed to wake up on time.”

“Judging by the shadows under your eyes I think it’s more likely you didn’t sleep at all.”

She bit her lip, glancing away. “Last night was a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it. Ritual killings? Christ, and I thought a werewolf was terrifying.”

Hermione blinked, gaze snapping back up. “Werewolf?”

Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, just something stupid Fred and George have been trying to spread through town. You know how they love their fantastic stories.”

“They’re not serious, though?”

The redhead shrugged, grabbing another bundle of roots from her pale. “They aren’t to be _taken_ seriously, let’s just leave it at that.”

Hermione’s brows drew together, feeling an inexplicable wave of anxiety wash over her. She pushed on, trying to ignore her strange reaction. “Oh, I nearly forgot…”

She reached into her skirts, extracting the silver pendant.

Ginny blinked, then her face broke into a gaping smile as she bounced on her feet.

“Hermione! You found my pendant! Oh my god, I thought I lost it for good!” She squealed in delight, causing Hermione to laugh.

“Where did you find it? I’ve torn the house apart looking and had all the boys scouting the trail.”

Hermione tried to maintain a casual expression. “I found it on my way home last night. I was walking the path and something in the dirt caught the reflection of my lantern.” She held it out for her friend to take. “I took it home to clean it for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that…” Ginny carefully picked up the item, holding it in her palm. “Oh, it feels so cold.”

Hermione swallowed. “I left it sitting by the window all night.”

“Well, thank you again. I was so upset, I thought it was gone forever. I still don’t know how the chain broke.” She shook her head, meeting Hermione’s eyes. “And you found Ron’s missing money clip just the other day.” Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re a regular life saver, you are.”

Hermione gazed upon the gleaming pendant. “I wouldn’t say that. I just try to look out for my friends.”

Ginny smiled. “We’re lucky to have you. Now all you need is to find Harry’s missing laundry and you’ll really make a name for yourself.”

Hermione laughed. “Fang sneaks out and steals from Harry’s clothesline. I’ve told him countless times to string it up higher but he never listens to me.”

They both rolled their eyes. “Boys,” they said at the same time, bursting into giggles.

It felt good to laugh, to escape the fear and anxiety that had comprised her night and most of her morning.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

“I better continue on, I don’t want to be late again.”

Ginny nodded. “Have a good day. Well, as good a day as possible, I ‘spose. The whole town is pretty tense now that the sexy Priest is here.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Ginny!” She hissed, glancing around as though someone may be listening in. “You can’t say that!”

The redhead smirked. “If he didn’t want me looking he shouldn’t have worn all that leather.”

Hermione blushed. “You shouldn’t talk that way about a holy man.”

“Last I checked, it’s sacrilege to touch. Looking is still perfectly acceptable. Besides, are you telling me you didn’t think the exact same thing?”

Hermione shook her head. “I was more focused on the possible string of homicides he’s come to uncover.”

“I managed to focus on that _and_ the way his arse looked in those-”

“Stop that!”

Ginny laughed. “Get to work, miss holier-than-thou.”

Hermione tried to maintain her stern expression but couldn’t prevent a small smirk from lifting the corner of her mouth. Ginny always proved a fruitful distraction.

Hermione bid the girl a final farewell and continued into town, spirits lifted considerably now that she knew yet another one of her friends bore a protection amulet.

She just needed to commandeer personal items from a few more people to ensure her closest group of loved ones were shielded.

Harry was next on her list, had been for a while. But he was proving to be a tricky subject. He didn’t carry or wear any one item on a regular basis.

She was going to have be creative when it came to casting protection over the most reckless of her friends.

She was pulled from her ponderings as she walked up the steps to the Apothecary, blinking in confusion when she noticed the front door open ajar, darkness beyond.

“Madam Pomfrey?” She pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The curtains were drawn over the window, her shadow cast along the opposite wall as she stood in the doorway.

“Madam?” She called more loudly, wondering if she was in the back room.

But something in the air felt… wrong.

She couldn’t place it, not intellectually. It was a response driven from pure base instinct, the animal dwelling within her sensing blood in the air and pushing her senses to high alert.

She slowly crossed the floor, arms rigid at her sides, breath stuttered.

As she neared the front counter she felt the air sizzle and snap along her skin, some acrid, intangible force surrounding her.

She blinked rapidly, slowly peering over the edge of the table…

She gasped, hand flying to her mouth as she reared back.

A pool of blood lay on the floor, a trail of it leading down the narrow hall to the back room.

Her eyes brimmed with tears.

_This can’t be real._

_This isn’t happening…_

She desperately wanted to run, to scream for help, yet some invisible force pulled her deeper into the store, around the counter, down the hall…

The storage pantry door stood before her, the trail of blood disappearing beneath.

She swallowed thickly, swaying on her feet as her fingers wrapped around the knob.

Her heartbeat reverberated in her ears as she slowly turned it, pulling it towards her…

She jolted back so violently she crashed into the opposite wall, nearly toppling to the ground. She caught herself against the shelf, a terrified scream trapped in her throat, her shock separating her from her senses.

She raced through the store, mindless of the bloody footprints she left in her wake. She darted outside, down the steps, into the street, hair flying behind her, wild and untamed, eyes feral and mouth agape in silent horror.

She was so consumed with the massacre at her back she was blind to the threat poised at her front.

She collided with something hard and unyielding. She bounced off the solid barrier, body plummeting to the ground, spared from crushing impact by a pair of arms twining around her middle, knocking the breath from her lungs.

She gasped, hands scrambling for purchase against the thick leather of his duster.

“Calm down.”

The simply command had a profound effect upon her. Her limbs fell limp, mind going stunningly blank for a few blessed seconds. He pulled her upright, setting her on her feet, both hands remaining pressed against her waist as she swayed precariously.

She stared up at him with wide, haunted eyes.

He held her gaze steady, his pupils rapidly swallowing the grey of his irises.

A short eternity passed, nothing existing beyond the gleaming eyes above her, the gloved hands upon her and the dirt road beneath her.

Then he spoke. The moment shattered, shards of it digging into her skin at every angle.

“Something has happened.”

It wasn’t a question. She felt the vibration of his voice in her chest.

“In there.” Her voice was strained, broken, despite the scream never having broke free. She pointed a trembling hand at the Apothecary, tears tracking down her cheeks unknowingly.

His eyes flickered to the open door of the store and then back to her, expression hardening.

“Stay here.”

He released her all too suddenly. She stumbled on her feet as he strode past, boots eating up the road in great bounds though he didn’t seem to rush.

She wiped futilely at her wet cheeks, then buried her face in her hands, ghastly images flashing behind her closed lids.

She quaked with the force of the hysteria bubbling inside her. She forced her chin up and her eyes open, pushing the rising panic down.

The Outsider stepped into the store without a moment’s hesitation, disappearing into the shadows beyond. She bit her lip so hard she nearly broke the skin. The pain kept her grounded, reminded her this was all really happening.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, a few minutes or a few hours, a few lifetimes, but finally he emerged, spine straight and shoulders back, his movements sleek and precise, like a predator moving through the tall grass, steadily zeroing in on its prey.

And yet…

His eyes were fixated squarely upon Hermione. He didn’t blink, didn’t slow his apparch. She went stock still with fear, a rabbit rendered frozen before the wolf.

And then he stopped just before her, causing her to crane her neck to hold his gaze. The sun was directly behind him, casting his visage into darkness, turning his broad form into a massive silhouette, a living shadow.

“What is your name?”

She blinked. The question so mundane compared to the sights he had undoubtedly just witnessed.

She swallowed past the constriction in her throat.

“Hermione.”

His expression was masked by shadow, his body eerily still.

“Hermione…” he repeated slowly, something in his tone making her head buzz.

Her knees trembled. The air around her came alive once more. But it was charged with something different, something familiar-

Before she could process the fleeting sensation his hand shot up and grasped her upper arm, fingers more constricting than an iron manacle.

“Hermione,” he said once more, awaking her from the strange trance. “We need to have a discussion.”

And then he was pulling her along beside him. She shuffled to keep up, too overwhelmed by all she had seen to voice any dissent. And yet her heart still skipped a beat at his final words.

“In private.”


	4. Matutine

**Matutine (adj.)** just before the dawn  
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.

He wasted no time shoving Hermione into a small, windowless storage shed, pausing at the door to address the Friar who appeared at his side from seemingly thin air.

“Inform Shacklebolt there’s been another slaying. Instruct him to gather the leaders of this village and meet me in the square in half an hour.” His voice brokered no room for question, no inch for argument.

“Tell him to keep the scene clear of spectators. No one is to enter the shop, and _no one_ is to leave town. The punishment for such transgressions will be severe.”

Her limbs trembled as he strode inside, closing the door with deafening finality. The room was plunged into darkness. She heard the sound of a lock sliding into place. She backed into the wall, pressing flat against it.

Next came the steady tread of boots, closer, closer. She closed her eyes, turning her face away-

He walked past her, the scrape of metal quick to follow, the hiss of a flame being ignited, and then the soft glow of a lantern illuminated the confined space.

A small table and two chairs were revealed. He gestured to one of them.

“Take a seat.”

She blinked dumbly, slowly processing his command in the wake of her shock.

He drew a chair out, staring at her expectantly. She slowly pushed away from the wall, crossing the short distance on weak knees, anxiously lowering herself into the seat.

He pushed her forward, the chivalrous gesture perturbing in light of the current circumstances.

And then he rounded the table, gracefully taking the opposite chair and awarding her with the full force of his attention.

She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, the intensity housed within too much for her spent nerves.

“Hermione.” She flinched. “I have some questions for you.”

She swallowed nervously, rubbing her palms together on her lap, shifting in her chair.

“Alright.” Her voice was timid, meak. It made her cringe. She cleared her throat, gathering the meager remnants of her courage. “Okay.”

He leaned back, arms folding across his chest.

“How did you come upon the body?”

She took a deep breath, slowly raising her chin, locking gazes at last.

“Her name is Poppy Pomfrey.”

He tipped his head, eyes roaming her face carefully, as though searching for something.

“Was.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her name _was_ Poppy Pomfrey.”

Her blood ran cold, the skin prickling along her arms. She’d dropped her shawl on her mad dash out of the shop.

“How did you come to discover the scene?”

Holding his gaze was a feat in itself. His eyes practically glowed in the faded light, she awaited his gleaming teeth to appear next.

“I work at the Apothecary. I was starting my day when I-” she stopped short, haunting images flashing through her mind, scattering her thoughts.

“Was the door locked?”

She blinked, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts away.

“I… it was open.”

His voice held no shred of softness, no sympathy.

“Unlocked or open?”

“What?”

“The door. Was it simply unlocked or did you find it open?”

She opened and closed her mouth, thinking hard. “It was open. Just a little bit. I had to push it the rest of the way to enter.”

He inhaled slowly, chest rising. “Continue.”

Hermione felt her stomach clench painfully.

“And then… I called her name.” She wet her lips, gaze drifting as she relived the terror of her morning. “I called her name twice. Then I saw the blood behind the counter and…”

Her heart was in her throat, pulse thrumming a staccato beat. “And then I opened the door to the pantry and I saw-” She closed her eyes, nausea seizing her.

“You didn’t run for help as soon as you saw the blood.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation. He merely sounded curious. Detached.

“Most women would have fled at the first sign of carnage. You went around the counter and into the hall.”

Hermione blinked, vision hazy with tears.

“She’s my friend. I wanted to see…” she swallowed. “I knew from the amount of blood on the floor someone was badly injured, I wanted to see if they were still alive, if I could help.”

He tipped his head, eyes holding her immobile like a pin through a butterfly wing.

“Did you touch anything?”

She shook her head. “I fell into a shelf, I may have knocked a few items over in my haste. But I didn’t step into the pantry. I didn’t touch… her.” The final word got stuck in her throat. There hadn’t been anything left in that room resembling a person.

“Did you see or hear anything amiss, beyond the blood?”

Hermione swallowed. “Just that the door was ajar.” _And the room was charged with a black, ominous presence_. Then she jolted, remembering something. “Oh, the curtain was drawn.”

He raised a dark brow. “Is that unusual?”

“Madam Pomfrey starts her day at dawn, she always opens the curtain to let the light in.”

His jaw ticked. “When was the last time you worked?”

“Last night.” _Just before your riotous arrival._

“Did you see her exit the store?”

Her muscles seized.

“No.”

He studied her. “What is it?”

“I just…” she inhaled sharply, emotions breaking loose within her. “She offered to close up on her own. She didn’t want me out alone after dark…” she rubbed her aching chest. “I should have stayed. I shouldn’t have left her alone-”

“Had you stayed you would likely be a heaping addition to the pile of parts in the closet.”

She reared back. “How can you be so callous?”

“I mean no offence, Miss Granger. I’m merely trying to ascertain-”

“How do you know my last name?”

There was a deafening beat of silence.

His eyes narrowed. “You told me outside.”

She shook her head quickly, drawing back. “No I-”

Her mind went stunningly blank.

She blinked slowly, eyes unfocused.

_You told him your full name, don’t you remember?_

Her limbs felt heavy, her lids slowly closing.

_No… no, wake up!_

She gasped for air as though breaking through the water’s surface. She blinked rapidly, glancing around in confusion.

“What happened?”

He tilted his head, eyes bright with intrigue.

“I’m not wholly certain.”

Hermione placed her hands flat on the table, eager to push away and escape, when a thunderous pounding sounded at the door, causing it to shake violently on its hinges.

“Hermione! Are you in there?” 

She nearly toppled over with the force of her relief. Her table companion couldn’t look more irritated.

“Friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

He stood with a heavy sigh, walking past her and sliding the lock away.

The door flew open instantly, Harry charging inside.

“What the hell is going on here?” She’d never seen him look so livid, emerald eyes flashing. “You can’t detain her like this! Hermione, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, standing quickly. “No, I’m alright, he was only asking me-”

“This is unacceptable!” Harry rounded on the other man, fists clenched. “You can’t drag people off and lock them away without-”

“I assure you, I can do exactly that. Now I strongly suggest you direct your passions toward finding the person responsible for these killings, perhaps then we stand a chance at catching the assailant.”

Harry’s mouth clamped shut, jaw tensing.

“Come on, Mione. We’re leaving.” He held a hand out and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to pull her from the claustrophobic space into the street beyond. She released a breath as they emerged, eyes fixed carefully ahead, terrified to look upon the man at her back.

If she had, she would have seen the storm raging within his eyes as they fixated on her retreating figure.

After a few more moments of brisk walking Harry glanced back at her.

“I’m sorry I didn't get there sooner. The Friar only just told us what happened.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just relieved you came when you did.”

“What happened? Did he upset you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, gently tugging free of his grasp. “Harry, I’m not a child, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“This isn’t some overzealous neighbor, Mione.” He spun around. “He represents the Church, their power over us. None of us can afford to come under his suspicion.”

She blinked. “Suspicion? What are you implying?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You think I had something to do with Pomfrey?”

“Of course not! I’m just saying that if he suspects anyone of being guilty of _anything_ , he’s within his rights to take us back to the Holy City with him.”

She swallowed thickly. Harry’s eyes burned bright.

_He can’t possibly know…_

“I- I don’t-” she fell silent as shouting tore through the air.

They both turned to face the town square. A crowd had gathered outside the Apothecary, barely held at bay by the thin Friar and the broad shouldered Kingsley.

“Everyone listen to me! You cannot enter the store! We can’t risk-”

“You seem to be telling us what to do quite a bit, Shacklebolt,” rang one annoyed voice above the fray. Lucius stepped forward. “Need I remind you our village is led by a council of leaders of which you are merely a member.”

Kingsley's golden eyes narrowed. “And need I remind _you_ that I was voted Head Chair for moments of crisis such as this.”

“You were voted as Head in order to break voting ties on everyday matters, Kingsley,” added a new voice, calm and reasonable. Hermione’s mouth fell open as Arthur Weasley stepped forward.

“Did Arthur just _agree_ with Lucius Malfoy?” she whispered.

Harry shook his head. “Hell must be frozen over.” Then he sighed. “But he’s right. Kingsley has no right making decisions on behalf of all of us.”

Hermione’s brows drew together, but before she could respond the crowd went deathly silent all at once. She instantly knew the cause and her body went rigid with anticipation.

She heard the heavy tread of his footfalls behind her, growing steadily closer. She swayed on her feet, clutching Harry’s arm for stability and comfort. Harry placed a hand at her lower back, gently nudging her to the side.

As they both moved to the edge of the spectators she saw him at last. A black smudge marring the vibrant landscape. A shadow blocking out the sun.

He turned his head, grey eyes locking with hers for a heart pounding instant, and then he directed his focus to the angry mob, expression neutral, posture relaxed.

“I believe I asked for only the town leaders’ presences.”

Harry’s fingers clenched against her back for a moment before he stepped forward.

“The town is guided by a council, but every resident has a voice.”

The Outsider’s head snapped around, eyes gleaming as they met Harry’s. Hermione inhaled sharply, the need to run to her friend, to protect, to shield, nearly overwhelming her senses.

Riddle made no overt advances, he didn’t even blink, but something about him screamed danger, radiated threat. She couldn’t explain it, but her brief meeting with him in the storage shed had only increased her unease tenfold.

“And what is your name, boy?”

The moniker only enraged Harry further. His spine straightened, shoulders drawn back.

“Harry Potter.”

Hermione blinked.

She felt a wave of deja vu crash over her.

She closed her eyes, chasing the feeling, trying to pinpoint why it lingered in her mind.

_Name name name name…_

She wet her lips, opening her eyes.

Something about a name?

_How strange._

“Mr. Potter.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Am I to understand a young man barely out of boyhood is a member of this council?”

Hermione leapt on instinct, ready to restrain Harry as his fists clenched at his sides and he took a menacing step forward, but Ron and Neville beat her as they darted out of the crowd.

“Harry, don’t do something you’ll regret,” Neville whispered sharply, even as Ron said, “Give me the signal, mate, and we’ll drop kick his arse.”

Hermione glared, marching forward and placing a hand on her best friend’s shoulder, though her eyes remained locked with the menacing figure standing before them.

Then another person stepped forward, breaking the tension as he cleared his throat loudly.

“Excuse me, err… Father Riddle?”

Hermione cringed at the formal title, feeling the fine hairs along her arms and neck stand on end with the reminder that this dangerous creature was in fact a holy man. Riddle’s eyes snapped away from hers, pinning the newest speaker with a glare. The man squirmed awkwardly.

“Um… the name’s Pius Thicknesse, how do you do?” He held his hand aloft, Hermione bit her lip as Riddle tipped his head down, staring at the offered appendage with a raised brow.

Several moments passed, and she became convinced he would begrudge the man the formality, but finally Riddle raised his own gloved hand and shook.

“Thicknesse. Are you also a member of the council?”

“Yes, I am. I am also the legal expert within Hogsmeade, I represent the law, you see. Well, me and my apprentice, Mr. Weasley…” he turned around, gesturing for his aforementioned apprentice to join him. Percy stepped forward on stiff legs, expression tense as he slowly took a stand beside his mentor.

“And you see, Mr. Weasley and I have been doing extensive research into the laws set forth by the Church, regarding your right to instill controlling interest-”

“I’m going to stop you right there.”

Thicknesse blinked as Riddle held up a leather clad hand. Percy took a wide step back, fidgeting anxiously.

“It’s clear there’s been a fundamental misunderstanding.”

Riddle strode past the frightened man and towards the crowd, which once more parted to make way for his path through the center. He passed by Kingsley and walked up the stairs of the Apothecary, turning to face them all from the raised porch.

Some glanced around nervously, others glared daggers at the man hovering above them like a vengeful god. Harry looked ready to spit fire. She squeezed his shoulder again on impulse.

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear before.” His voice made the trees shake and the ground tremble, or perhaps it was merely her bones that vibrated. “From this moment on, _I_ am the only law within Hogsmeade.”

People shouted in outrage, Kingsley blinked up at the man with a guarded expression, making no attempt to calm the crowd. The Friar stepped back nervously, trotting up the steps as residents surged forward in growing anger.

“Silence!”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as the air was pulled forcefully from her lungs, rendering her frozen in shock. The crowd fell silent instantly, everyone looking equally perplexed. Harry inhaled sharply at her side as though oxygen deprived while Ron scratched his head in confusion.

“Yet another one of your people has been slayed. If you have any hope of stopping these killings you will all shut up and listen.”

Harry bristled at her side but remained silent. From the corner of her eye she saw Lucius in a similar state of agitation, his wife’s hands wrapped around his wrist as she whispered in his ear.

“While we don’t know the true nature of the culprit one thing is for certain…” Riddle began to pace the narrow porch, hands clasped calmly behind his back as he gazed down upon them, a king ruling over his subjects. “The killings are happening closer together, and closer to the heart of the village. Which means whatever or _whoever_ is responsible is becoming increasingly brave.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Hermione wrapped her arms protectively over her middle.

“I have cause to believe another slaying will occur tonight. Unless we stop it.”

She drew in a deep breath, sidling closer to Harry and Ron, who in turn moved closer to her. Riddle tipped his head, examining the faces below with fire in his eyes.

“By working _together_.”

Charlie stepped forward, shoulder back and jaw set. “How do you intend to stop it? We’ve tried everything. Search parties, lock-ins, nightwatch, but whatever it is still manages to get past our defenses.”

Riddle raised a dark brow, shadows dancing across his face as a cloud passed over the sun.

“That’s because whatever is killing your people is already inside these walls.”

The crowd murmured, Hermione and Harry shared a charged look.

“Are you implying that one of our residents is responsible?” A woman shouted.

“Impossible!” Someone called out.

“Most of the families here go generations back, no one would-”

“Render another person apart limb by limb?” His hard-bitten words left them all silent once more. “How strange, it seems that’s already occurred four times over.”

People glanced about with clear unease and trepidation.

“And unless you would like to make it a fifth I suggest you stop treating the threat from the outside and start setting your defenses inward.”

Hermione blinked in shock as Harry pulled away and stepped forward, body tightly drawn and eyes hard.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

Everyone glanced between the two men with bated breath, the tension a living, breathing weight pressing upon their chests.

Riddle gazed upon Harry for several moments, lightning flashing in his eyes before a slow grin spread across his face.

“Tonight is a full moon, Mr. Potter.”

Fangs appeared from behind his lips, gleaming in the faded sunlight and making her heart stop. She blinked and they were gone.

“I intend to set a trap.”


	5. Werifesteria

**Werifesteria (v.)** to wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery  
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“This is ridiculous! I’m going to be out a week’s worth of meat! Who’s going to pay me for all the wasted product?”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Finnegan. You will be compensated for your contribution.”

Seamus glared daggers at Kingsley. “So you say. I’ll calm down when I see the money.”

“What price do you place on the safety of your village, Mr. Finnegan?”

Everyone looked to the speaker, currently overseeing the setup of a wagon full of game meats in the center of the square.

“That’s not fair! I’m the only one who’s being put out to set up this-” Seamus gestured wildly. “Whatever the hell this is!”

“A trap, Mr. Finnegan. Or was I unclear before?”

The young man clamped his mouth shut, arms folding across his chest. Hermione lingered by Ron’s side near the well, Harry having joined the Council members hovering at the front of the crowd, the residents all watching with varying levels of aggravation and dissent.

“You think this is going to work?” Neville asked lowly, coming to stand at her other side.

She bit her lip. “If it is truly a beast that is responsible for these killings the idea is sound.” Her brows furrowed. “But the past victims haven’t been-” she stopped short, stomach clenching. “Eaten.”

The boys cringed. She quickly pushed on.

“So if the animal is killing for reasons other than food, the free meal won’t make any difference.”

Neville nodded, eyes fixated ahead at the men hoisting up the iron cage.

“And if it isn’t a beast?”

Hermione held her breath. Ron jolted. “What are you saying, Nev? You don’t actually believe this arsehole?”

She rounded on the red head. “Ronald!” she hissed, glancing around nervously. “Mind your tongue! You may not agree with the man but he is still a member of the Church.”

Ron scowled. “So what? I’m supposed to respect him just because he’s a man of the cloth? How does that make him any better than anyone else here who works hard for a living?”

“You don’t have to respect him but you will not _disrespect_ him, the consequences could be far reaching. Think of your family.”

Her warning seemed to get through to him. He straightened, face sobering.

“I just don’t think it’s right what he’s doing, coming in and taking over like this.”

She swallowed heavily. “I’m not any more excited about it. But you have to admit, something needs to be done. What we’ve tried hasn’t been working, and people keep dying.”

She paled, horrific images flashing though her mind. Ron stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm. “Mione, are you okay? I haven’t gotten to ask you about what happened.”

She averted her eyes to the ground, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. I can’t talk about it. Not yet. It’s too much.”

He nodded, exchanging a look of concern with Neville over her shoulder.

Their attention was drawn back to the crowd as a general murmur started. Father Riddle had stepped onto a crate, towering above them.

“I need everyone’s attention!”

As if he didn’t have it the moment he stepped foot in their town.

“The sun will be going down soon. I want the women, children, and elderly to return to their homes, shutter the windows and lock the doors. Leave the premises for no reason. No matter _what_ you hear.”

A shiver ran through Hermione. She grasped Ron’s hand.

“As for the men, you’re going to report to me for assignment. Some of you will be placed strategically at the perimeter, others will be manning the cage, waiting to release it should the creature present itself.”

His eyes were fathomless black holes, inhuman.

“Do I make myself clear?”

There was a wave of grumbles, but no one had the nerve to speak their concerns aloud, not now that the trap was set.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as the Priest’s dark gaze landed on her once more, somehow finding her in the sea of random faces below. Their eyes held for only the space of a heartbeat, but it felt like an eternity in which she was rendered motionless.

And then he released her from his thrall, eyes narrowing dangerously on the watching faces.

“What are you all waiting for? Now!”

Everyone jolted into motion, the few women in the group breaking away after hugging their relatives or kissing their beaus.

“You going to be okay, Mione?” Neville asked.

“I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you boys. I can’t believe he wants you exposed like this. It’s too great of a risk.”

“We’ll be careful.”

She sighed, reluctant to leave them. She had created amulets for both young men, though they had no idea. Still, her magic only shielded from so much, and she had yet to test it against snapping fangs and swiping claws.

“Get going, Mione, while there’s still light,” Ron prompted, gesturing to the road leading to her godmother’s cottage.

She leapt forward, throwing her arms around him so hard he staggered back.

“Please look out for each other tonight,” she whispered as he returned her embrace.

He squeezed her close and then gently pried her away. “We will. Now go.”

She nodded, touching Neville’s arm as she passed. “Be safe.”

She lingered at the mouth of the road, most of the women walking in a group up ahead. But her eyes lingered on her friends, and then searched out the familiar shock of black hair. She didn’t see him anywhere. It unnerved her, not being able to see her best friend before such a dangerous mission.

“You heading home, Mione?”

She blinked, turning to face the speaker.

And smiled. “Hi, Charlie. Yes, I’m heading in now, just looking for Harry first.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him, you need to get going.” He gazed into the sky, orange and red quickly giving way to violet and plum. “Get yourself behind a locked door before the moon comes out.”

Her heart skipped a beat. His eyes gleamed as they peared upward before finally settling on her once more. “Why don’t you head to the Burrow? It’s closer, and you can keep Mum and Gin company.”

“Don’t forget about Bill,” a new voice added. She spun around.

Percy sidled up to them, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. She knew he was the least adventurous of the Weasley men, she imagined he was as frightened by the prospect of luring the beast as she was.

“Bill is at the Burrow?”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

“Er… he’s a bit out of sorts lately.”

She raised a brow. “Is he ill?”

“Not exactly.”

Her heart rate increased, glancing between the boys, not understanding the silent conversation occurring between them.

“You shouldn’t have brought him up,” Charlie hissed at his brother.

“I thought she knew! She and Ron talk about everything.”

“Someone _please_ tell me what’s going on.”

Charlie sighed. “You can’t tell a soul. Not even Harry. We don’t want it spreading.”

She took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

“I promise not to tell anyone.”

Charlie nodded. “Bill was involved with Fleur.”

Percy shook his head, glancing away. Hermione released a slow breath. “That’s terrible.”

“Tell us about it,” Percy clipped, clearly irritated. “If word got out they were running around together it would ruin his reputation-”

“I don’t mean that,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “They’re both adults and free to do as they please. I think it’s terrible he’s heartbroken over her death.” She gazed at Charlie, expression softening. “How is he?”

The elder Weasley swallowed, shoulders heavy. “He’s a wreck. Won’t get out of bed. I haven’t seen him in days.”

Hermione felt her heart break for Ron’s oldest brother. “Poor Bill. And to be forced to mourn her in silence because no one knew.”

“He should have known better.”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring Percy. “I’ll head to the Burrow, check in on him.”

“Thanks, Mione. But don’t be surprised if his door is bolted. He only opens it once a day, to use the out house and to fetch water. I don’t think he’s eaten since she was found.”

“That won’t do. I respect his need to grieve but starving himself won't bring her back.” She sighed. “Alright, I better get going. Be safe, both of you.”

“You too, Mione. Hurry up, you don’t have time to waste.”

Her nose twitched. “Why would anyone purposely waste time?”

Charlie smirked. “Forgot who I was talking to for a second.”

She bid the brothers farewell and took off at a brisk walk down the dirt path, the sky rapidly darkening above. The group of women had already turned a corner, disappearing from view. And soon enough she was far enough away from the town square to lose sight of the men as well.

She was surrounded by the eerie stillness of the town on either side, windows closed and curtains drawn, lights burning low. The woods in the distance seemed unnaturally quiet…

She stopped in her tracks.

A familiar flash of black and blonde making her do a double take.

She blinked, muscles tensing.

_What is he doing?_

Draco was heading for the tree line of the forest, pace quick and head down.

_Is he insane?_

Hermione knew there was no way the Priest assigned anyone to take up watch from within the woods. She thought back, trying to remember if she saw Draco in the town square at all.

She couldn’t recall much beyond Father Riddle’s intimidating presence.

But one thing was certain, if Draco went into the woods he was going to get himself hurt… or possibly worse.

She looked over her shoulder, ready to call for help, hoping to find someone to draw the reckless boy back before it was too late.

But she was alone.

And Draco was getting closer to the woods.

She glanced in either direction several times, indecision rendering her frozen. Finally she released a groan and stomped her foot, taking off at a run across the field, heading straight for the idiotic blonde.

“Malfoy!” She called, hair and skirts flying behind her.

His gait slowed as he glanced around in confusion.

Then he spotted her.

And scowled.

She returned the sour expression.

“Are you suicidal or just daft?” She shouted, still several yards away.

“Get out of here, Granger!” He yelled back, glancing towards the ever darkening sky with great tension in his face.

She slowed her ascent, convinced he would return with her-

And watched in horror as he spun on his heel and sprinted into the woods.

She reeled back, heart leaping into her throat.

_He really is suicidal!_

She sucked in a desperate gasp of air, eyes wide, unsure what to do.

_Shite!_

She took off after him.

She emerged into the woods and came to a halt.

He was already out of sight. The thick foliage was cloaked in shadow, the fading rays of the sun barely breaking through the canopy. She swallowed, hands clenching at her sides, wanting to call his name but fearful of drawing the attention of something else.

And suddenly her dream came rushing back to her. She went rigid with panic and adrenaline, nothing audible beyond the blood rushing in her ears.

She didn’t hear the person approach from behind.

A hand wrapped around her arm.

She screamed, spinning around so violently she toppled to the dirt and dead leaves.

“Christ, Mione! What are you doing out here?”

She blinked up in shock.

“ _Harry_?”

He held out a hand, rolling his eyes when she continued to stare at him like a wide eyed doe, grasping her arm and pulling her upright.

“You must be insane to be in the woods-”

“I was chasing Malfoy, what are _you_ doing out here?”

Harry raised a dark brow. “Malfoy?”

“He was just ahead of me.” She panted lightly from her latent shock. “Didn’t you see him?”

“I was too busy chasing after you.” He sounded supremely irritated. She narrowed her eyes.

“I wasn’t exactly keen on coming in here myself! I was trying to stop the idiot before he got himself killed!”

“Keep your voice down!” He glanced around nervously, pulling her back towards the clearance. “You need to run to Hagrid’s, go now.”

She blinked. “Hagrid’s?”

“You don’t have enough time to get to the cottage or the Burrow before sunset. Hagrid’s is just at the edge of the wood.”

She tried to pull free of his grip but it was inhumanly strong. She cringed in pain. He blinked, hand releasing her at once.

“Go now, Hermione!” He yelled, the sun setting beneath the horizon, darkness sweeping over the land.

“What about Malfoy?”

Harry stepped back. “I’ll find him.”

He rubbed absently at his scar. She watched the movement, opening her mouth but unable to speak before he was shouting at her again.

“Run!”

She nodded quickly, lungs pumping furiously as she dashed into the clearing, running along the edge of the wood towards the log cabin in the distance. Smoke billowed from the chimney. She suspected Hagrid left the fire burning for his many pets, the man himself would no doubt be assisting the others with the trap back in the heart of town.

She gasped when she saw lanterns bobbing along the road up ahead, barely able to make out the outline of the shadowy figures holding them aloft.

She was about to call out, ask them what was happening, when the flame illuminated the sharp features of the Priest.

Hermione instantly dropped to her hands and knees, concealing herself in the tall brush.

Why her first reaction was to hide she didn’t know, but her instincts demanded she do everything to avoid discovery, and she’d learned long ago to always trust that inner voice.

She wet her lips anxiously as he walked closer, veering off the path and heading towards her.

_Can he see me?_

But he wasn’t alone. He was with two other men, one obvious for his hulking size, the other by his deep voice.

Hagrid and Kingsley.

“Do you only have the one mutt?” Father Riddle asked, voice clipped.

“Fang ain’t a mutt, she’s part wolf.” Hagrid supplied, apprehension lacing each word. “Ya ain’t gonna use her as bait fer that wild beast, are ya?”

“Of course not, Hagrid,” Kingsley responded, then added in a whisper, “Right?”

The Priest released a frustrated breath, their heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

“I assure you, the mongrel is quite safe from feral creatures. I intend to use her to catch the true predator plaguing this village.”

Hagrid bristled. “What der ya mean?”

“The trap we set up is to keep the residents occupied. They’re all quite convinced a wild animal is responsible for the killings so I’ve indulged them. But we are going to devise the true trap.”

Hermione blinked from her crouched position, blood draining from her face.

“And what does Fang hafta do with that?”

“You’ll see.”

She held her breath as the three men passed directly in front of her, ducking her head low to avoid the swinging light of their lanterns.

The Priest stopped, spine going rigid.

Her entire body throbbed.

“Father? Is there a problem?” Kingsley came to a stop a few paces ahead, glancing over his shoulder.

The Priest held his lantern high, illuminating his face with an otherworldly glow, eyes narrowed, lethal.

“I thought I felt something.”

She was going to faint.

“Felt something?” Kingsley raised his own lantern, expression puzzled. “You mean you heard something?”

The Priest licked his lips, eyes scanning the area in which she hid. She knew he would find her. Surely the ground trembled with the force of her heartbeat.

The men were silent for several moments. Remaining still was becoming an increasingly impossible task, the need to jump and scream and burst out of her skin all but overwhelming.

And then he lowered the lantern, glancing ahead at the cabin.

“My mistake.”

Something in his voice made her tremble anew. Like he was speaking directly to her.

“Let’s continue.” He stepped forward, resuming his long stride, the other two men falling into step behind him.

Hermione remained frozen in fear and shock for a few minutes longer, waiting until they were inside the cabin before slowly rising to her full height, legs weak and skirts stained with damp soil.

The woods at her back were blanketed in darkness, too terrifying to breach even for a moment. The clearing would leave her exposed, and the cabin was obviously off limits until they departed.

She glanced around the tall grass with great unease, trying to determine what route to take, unsure whether to believe the Priest or not when he seemed so assured there was no wild beast on the prowl.

She glanced up at the full, glowing moon.

And as if on cue, a bone chilling howl tore through the night.


	6. Selcouth

**Selcouth (adj.)** unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous  
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Hermione's blood ran cold at the deafening howl tearing through the night.

Coming from the darkened woods at her back.

And as if that weren't terrifying enough, a second howl echoed through the crisp air from the other end of the Village.

Her breathing was labored as she picked up her skirts and fled in the direction of the cabin.

She skidded in the mud and flattened herself against a sidewall just as the front door crashed open, the heavy tread of boots pacing along the porch.

"Did ya hear that?"

"The wolves?" Kingsley asked from somewhere inside.

Hagrid shook his head, stroking his wild beard as he gazed at the treeline.

"That was no ord'nary wolf howl."

Hermione held her breath, trying to render herself invisible, even as her heartbeat rattled every bone in her body.

"You're buying into the paranoia," the Priest said, voice closer than she anticipated, making her spine go rigid as she pressed further into the wall.

"You don't believe in werewolves?" Hagrid asked, eyes still averted to the woods.

"I never said that."

Hermione blinked.

_He can't be serious…_

"Are you saying you _do_ believe in them?" Kingsley's voice held the same note of disbelief she felt.

"I've encountered many dark creatures throughout my travels. I keep an open mind when it comes to such things. But the root of the problem is always the same." She heard something drag across the wood floors. "Evil." A thump. "Which derives from an unholy union with the devil himself."

All fell still within, his deep voice resonating as clearly as if he were speaking directly into her ear.

"Animals cannot enter such arrangements. Lucifer seeks to acquire human souls. Human flesh. And therefore, even if such a creature were to plague your village, it would still be the result of dark magic."

There was a metal clank, like chains rubbing together.

"So in either event, we have a witch to catch."

Her blood ran cold. Hagrid finally turned around at the sound of Fang's low keening.

"What are ya doin' to her?" His voice was plagued with concern.

He disappeared into the cabin, the door shutting behind him, blocking out whatever conversation followed.

Hermione doubled over with the force of her anxiety.

_He's creating a witch trap…_

What would such a thing even entail?

And did it discern light from dark magic?

_I need to get away from here!_

She took off at a sprint across the field, the moonlight her only source of guidance.

_I need to go home, check on godmother…_

She swallowed thickly, slowing her pace as she came to the main road, seeing the dim glow of a torch ahead.

_No, it's too far, and the path is too dark._

_I need to be around people. Maybe his trap won't work if I'm surrounded by others…_

_Or maybe you'll be outed in front of the entire village._

Dread squeezed her heart painfully. But the oppressive darkness propelled her forward despite her misgivings. She couldn't bear to remain in solitude a moment longer.

The owner of the torch was alone, walking along the far edge of town, where the dirt road ended and turned into rocky terrain. The woods weren't far off, a sinister creature all its own, with sharp talons and a thousand gleaming eyes, watching every move she made, lying in wait…

_Please let Harry be okay._

_And the rest of the boys._

She shook her head, trying to dispel the fear before it turned into full blown panic. She darted quickly for the figure. It was distinctly male, but his back was to her as he walked in the opposite direction, the shadows making it impossible to discern his identity.

She didn't want to sneak up on him but she also didn't want to announce her presence too loudly, drawing the attention of others from their posts.

So she took the middle ground, running towards him without a care for the dead leaves and twigs that snapped underfoot.

Sure enough, a few moments later his shoulders drew back and he spun around, raising a gleaming hatchet aloft. She reared back.

Not at the weapon.

But at the man.

_Shite!_

She wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction, but it was too late, he'd seen her.

"Granger?"

She swallowed nervously, stopping in her tracks, rocking back on her heels.

"What the bloody hell are you doing out here?"

She shook her head, opening her mouth to explain but he scowled and continued to speak.

"I knew you were batty, but this is outlandish even for you."

Now it was her turn to scowl. "What is _that_ supposed to mean, McLaggen?"

Cormac released a sigh of frustration and quickly strode forward. Hermione stepped back on instinct, but his long arm shot out and grabbed her before she could make her retreat.

"Come on."

She pulled back. "No, I'm fine-"

"You're going to bring the wrath of that madman down on all of us you stupid bint!"

Her jaw set as she dug her heels in.

"Let me go this instant, Cormac McLaggen!"

She didn't mean to raise her voice as she did, but she was lost to her anger, so consumed with breaking free of his hold.

They both froze as a deafening howl erupted from the woods at their backs, the sound of a snarl quick to follow.

She held his terrified gaze, her own face filled with terror.

A branch snapped.

They both took off sprinting for the nearest structure, an old barn that sat just off the dirt road.

Cormac's long legs easily tore across the ground, reaching the entrance long before she did. For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to close the doors on her, but at the last moment, he left the gate open just enough for her thin frame to slip through, before slamming it shut with a panicked gasp, locking the wooden beam into place.

They both backed away to the center of the one-room structure, surrounded by their own panting breath and the crackle of the torch. His arm shook, causing the shadows to dance even more chaotically off the walls.

Hermione swallowed, rubbing her trembling arms. "Maybe it wasn't-"

"Shut up!" He hissed. "You heard the same thing I did! It was massive, whatever it was."

She bit her lip, her rational mind insisting it was a bear, a common wolf, perhaps even a trick of their imagination…

But then the Priest's worlds came back to her.

_"I've encountered many dark creatures throughout my travels. I keep an open mind when it comes to such things."_

She jolted when pounding footfalls sounded just outside the barn, like a galloping horse, but the deep-throated growls that rumbled along the walls were truly predatory.

She inhaled sharply at the immense shadow that passed through the wood slats. Something was walking along the outer wall, much larger than a horse, faster than a bear.

_It can't be…_

Cormac stepped behind her, putting a hand over her mouth and pulling her flush against him. She cringed, arching her back to distance herself but he didn't relent, dragging her back towards the opposite wall.

And then something growled at their backs.

They both spun around, his arm releasing her as they stared in shock at the second shadow appearing along the wall, cutting through beams of moonlight.

"The torch," she whispered, eyes still locked on the roaming figure. "Put it out."

Cormac swallowed audibly. "Then we'll be in the dark."

"Better than illuminating ourselves!"

"They already know we're in here."

She bit her lip, finally tearing her gaze away to glance manically around the barn.

_There has to be something we can use to protect ourselves…_

Cormac had a hatchet, but using it would require getting up close and personal with whatever creature lurked outside. And if there was truly more than one of them… they didn't stand a chance.

But the barn was long abandoned, used for storage during the winter months, remaining frustratingly empty the rest of the year.

All it had was hay and cobwebs-

She blinked.

_Of course!_

"Cormac, we have to start a fire."

He gaped at her.

"You just told me to put out the torch!"

"We should have before we got inside! But you're right, it knows we're in here and won't leave an easy meal behind." Her words caused them both to shiver in terror. "All wild animals fear flames… I doubt the torch is big enough to scare it away, but if we set the barn on fire-"

"Are you insane?"

She glared, fists tight at her sides. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Yes! _Not_ burning down our only refuge!"

"Do you really think these rotting walls are strong enough to keep them out?"

Their whispered argument fell short as one of the creatures through itself into the wall, causing the entire structure to rock precariously. One of the beams split down the center.

They backed away quickly, only for the creature on the other side of the barn to start scratching at the base of the wall.

A massive paw came into view, equipped with black, gleaming claws.

"It's burrowing under!" Hermione screamed, seeing no point in remaining quiet anymore. She clutched Cormac's shoulder tightly. "We have to do something!"

She felt a tremor race through his body as he stared at the steadily growing hole in shock.

"McLaggen!"

He didn't look at her.

"Cormac! We have to burn it down!"

He finally blinked, complexion ghostly pale.

"Okay… let's light it up."

She nodded, darting for the haystacks, kicking the piles into one massive heap.

"Come on, hurry!"

Cormac ran over and started assisting her.

The snarling got louder, the clawing more desperate, both creatures now digging frantically to get to their prey.

"This is good enough, throw the torch in!"

He did as bade, the dry straw immediately catching fire, erupted into a bright blaze. They both backed away to opposite ends of the barn, their shadows stretching across the walls.

"The smoke…" he said, voice muffled as he covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow.

Hermione started to cough, the air around them turning hazy and black.

"Get low!"

She crouched down on her hands and knees, losing sight of Cormac as the fire exploded upwards, igniting the ceiling. The rotted beams groaned and snapped above.

"Shite! The roof's going to collapse!" She screamed, hoping Cormac was still conscious. The smoke was making her dizzy and sick, blurring her vision. Her lungs were filling with black rot, poisoning her from the inside out.

"Cor-" she gagged on the dark haze. "Cormac!"

She started to crawl across the dirt strewn floor, eyes narrowed as she searched for him.

The support beams groaned loudly as the flames roared around them, creating a deafening symphony of death and destruction that drowned out the calls of the beasts outside.

She wondered if they'd run off, or if they merely waited to see if their food would burn or flee.

What if this was all for nothing? Was it better to be eaten or burned alive?

Her body was once more wracked with violent coughs, dark spittle falling from her mouth. She wiped it away with a sweaty hand, eyes streaming. But by some miracle, she was able to make out a figure through the haze.

Cormac.

Passed out.

_God in heaven, or anyone else listening, please, please let us make it through this night alive…_

She crawled over to him, rolling him to his back. She shook him to no avail. She didn't bother calling his name, she could barely breathe as it was.

_Have… to get… us out…_

She blinked rapidly, hovering over his prone form, closing her eyes and pulling upon her inner strength, tapping into the secret, hidden force within her. It called to her night and day, but this time Hermione begged for its attention.

_I need you… to save us…_

She willed the power to the surface, to do her bidding without the use of channeling tools or herbs, without spells or enchantments. She had nothing but the raw energy within her soul, praying to whatever force was present that it would be enough.

Her fingertips began to tingle, her body breaking out in gooseflesh despite the searing heat surrounding her. She focused every ounce of her remaining strength on finding the glowing thread at her center, grabbing it with both hands and pulling, pulling, pulling-

The sound of an explosion broke her concentration as the roof caved in.

She screamed, covering her head with her arms as massive flaming beams hurtled down upon her. Her muscles clenched tight, braced for the bone breaking impact-

That never came.

She blinked through the smoke-filled haze, glancing around in confusion.

The ceiling debris lay around them in a perfect circle, a soft glowing light shielding them from the fallout, emanating from her person.

Hermione stared at her hands in shock. She'd never been able to perform magic like this before. Her skin glowed from within, as though fire itself flowed through her veins.

The energy depletion was massive. Her shield fell as she slumped over, laying flat beside Cormac, the fire still raging at all sides, spreading steadily towards them.

She couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at the stars above, the dancing smoke rising high into the night.

And then she heard a growl.

_This is it._

She closed her eyes tightly as the sound of quick and heavy paws crushed the ground, heading straight for her.

She prayed for the flames to reach her first…

She heard Cormac moan beside her, she chanced a quick glance at his prone form. She harbored no affection for the man, not since the incident that occurred in their youth, but she didn't want to die alone, and in her final moments she'd take comfort from any source she could.

His eyes slowly blinked open, glazed, lost, staring at her unseeing.

_You should have stayed asleep…_

And then she lost sight of him as two massive legs stepped between them. The paws were larger than her head, the claws as long as her hand.

She closed her eyes once more as the beast's head lowered. She felt its searing breath against her face, steam washing over her neck as it exhaled.

She bit her tongue so hard it bled as she heard the unmistakable sound of a jaw flexing...

Her eyes shot open as her skirts began to tug hard enough to drag her body across the dirt.

A massive wolf came into view, easily three times her size, its thick fur a deep black that gleamed beneath the moonlight. It had a mouthful of her skirts and was walking backward with them, pulling her with it.

_What's it doing?_

_Dragging me into its den to eat later?_

She swallowed thickly as her eyes met the creature's. They were a shimmering gold, breathtaking.

And hauntingly familiar.

She blinked rapidly as a strange sense of deja vu overtook her. The wolf continued to drag her backward, rocks and rubble scratching her arms as they progressed.

The cool and clear night air invaded her lungs.

She chanced a glance back, the flames further away than moments before.

_It's dragging me from the fire…_

It was ludicrous. But she couldn't deny what was clearly taking place.

She glanced at the wolf with only slightly less terror than before.

She wet her lips nervously, throwing her rationality to the wind.

"Cormac… the man…" she pointed weakly over her shoulder. "Please, help him."

The wolf released her skirts, its dagger-like teeth leaving long tears in the fabric. It held her gaze with an eerie stillness. Her heart raced anew.

_I was wrong… it's going to rip my throat out…_

But instead, the massive beast leaped over her sprawled body in one magnificent bound and ran towards the flames once more.

She watched in dumbfounded wonder as the wolf attempted to get Cormac's coat in its mouth. The fabric was too thin, easily shredding. The creature then tried pushing the man's dead weight with its long muzzle. It succeeded only in rolling Cormac to his stomach. The man groaned in pain, eyes still dazed.

She tried calling out to him but only coughed up more black spittle.

By the time she regained her bearings the air was filled with Cormac's shrill scream of pain. She glanced up, blinking in shock as the wolf dragged him away from the fire by his calf. Its gleaming teeth ripped through the material of his trousers as well as his flesh, blood dripping down his leg.

She opened and closed her mouth as the wolf released him and stepped back, gazing upon her once more.

Hermione held its intelligent gaze, her fear slowly ebbing away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

It tilted its head down slowly, sniffing her hand. She lifted her fingers, brushing its nose, before tentatively raising her arm and placing her hand against the side of its face.

Its fur was sleek and soft, sliding easily between her fingers.

_Is this really happening?_

The wolf brought its head forward more, as though to brush against her face when a sharp whistling sound filled the air-

\- a moment later the beast reared back with a thunderous snarl, giant teeth snapping at the sky, salvia flying, crying out in pain.

The moonlight glinted off a silver blade in its side.

Hermione gaped in shock, still too weak to move, forced to watch the scene play out from her helpless position on the ground.

The wolf stumbled back on large paws, golden eyes narrowed dangerously on something in the distance. It spared her one last glance as it took off at a dead run across the field, blood streaming in its wake, disappearing into the treeline.

She turned her head at the sound of fast approaching footsteps. Three people appeared, but her vision was blurred by exhaustion and she could only discern the identity of one.

He was unmistakable, even with her senses dulled.

"Did you hit it?" A familiar voice asked.

"Yes." She shivered at his voice, he was beside her now. "Get Hagrid to track its trail. It'll be weak from blood loss."

He lowered to his haunches, a gloved hand grabbing her chin and turning her face.

"Ms. Granger? Can you hear me?"

She blinked, opening her mouth but unable to produce words. Her magic had saved her life, but now her body was paying off the debt.

His jaw ticked as she remained unresponsive.

Another man appeared beside her, standing. "We'll take her to-"

"No." The Priest started to slide his arms beneath her. "I've got her. The two of you see to the man."

Cormac.

She'd nearly forgotten about him… was he still alive? Did they really survive the fire _and_ the wolf?

She gasped as her body was lifted, her weight sliding forward to rest against his chest as he slowly took to his feet with her in his grasp.

"Looks like he's been injured…" someone said.

She was fading rapidly.

"Get him to the infirmary. We can't linger in the open, the other beast is still loose."

The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was the Priest's low voice in her ear.

"It seems danger has its eyes set on you, Hermione."


End file.
